Page 45 of Wreckage

I turned to look at him. “You did?”

Troy shrugged, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “It was fast as hell. I have no idea how we’d catch it.”

“Maybe we could build a trap,” I suggested.

Troy raised a brow. “You know how to do that?”

“Not a damn clue,” I admitted. “But it’s worth trying. We have to figure something out. We can only live on granola bars, crackers, and waterfor so long.”

There was a quiet hope in the trap. A plan, even if it was a shitty one, and out here, even shitty plans were better than nothing.

We kept bringing in the last of the firewood, working in silence until Troy broke it with something that made my stomach turn.

“We might have to eat Dean.”

I stopped mid-step outside the plane, blinking at him. I nearly dropped the wood I was carrying. “What?”

Troy didn’t flinch. Didn’t waver. A muscle thrummed along his jaw, his eyes showcasing his seriousness.

I laughed, waiting for him to take it back, but he didn’t.

“You’re serious?”

He nodded, his expression dark.

A sick, twisting nausea curled in my stomach.

I snarled, stepping closer to him. “Absolutely fucking not.”

Troy held his ground. “Adrian, we have to consider it.”

“No, we don’t,” I snapped, the nausea growing at the idea of eating Dean. "For fuck sake, the man helped to teach me to ride a bike. To drive a stick shift. He bought me my first Lego set. There was no fucking way I was going to eat him. No. Never.

Troy exhaled sharply, frustration flickering in his eyes. “You think this food situation is magically gonna work itself out?”

I dropped the wood I was holding and clenched my fists. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll catch the rabbit. I’ll hunt if I have to. But I’m not eating him.”

Troy ran a hand through his hair, looking away. “I don’t want to, Adrian. But if it comes down to surviving or starving?—”

I hated that he had a point. I hated that he was thinking ahead. I hated that a part of me knew he wasn’t wrong.

But that didn’t mean I could accept it.

“And then what? Once he’s completely fucking gobbled up, and we’re still here? Then what, Troy? Are you going to eat me next? Elena?”

Troy winced at my words before speaking. “I-I don’t know.” He looked away into the distance.

“Are you giving up?” I demanded, breathing hard as I glared at him.

Troy’s eyes snapped to mine, sharp, but there was something else there, too. Something uncertain.

“I’m not giving up,” he said fiercely, but his voice had a waver to it.

And I didn’t like that.

Troy had always been the hopeful one.

He had gotten through a lot of bad shit growing up because of that stubborn hope—because he refused to believe things could stay bad forever.

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